


Waiting on Appeal

by TaleWeaver



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Perry Mason (TV), Perry Mason - Erle Stanley Gardner
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, F/M, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex, fusion with perry mason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24964582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWeaver/pseuds/TaleWeaver
Summary: Inspired by watching the 80's/90's telemovies. Picset and accompanying ficlet of Jon and Sansa as Perry Mason and Della Street.Written for @jonsadungeonsanddrabbles kink week 2020. Day 7: free choice
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37
Collections: JonsaKinks





	Waiting on Appeal

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the time frame of the original television series, 1957 – 1966.  
> In the original books, Perry Mason asked Della Street to marry him several times. She always refused because she wanted to be a part of his life, which she believed meant sharing his work; in the times the books were published she would have been expected to quit to get married.

In the offices of Jon Snow, attorney at law, a quiet celebration was taking place. Theon Greyjoy was leaning against the bookcase, Jon was sitting in a client chair, and Sansa Stark was perched on Jon’s desk. Lawyer, secretary and private eye were sharing a drink of excellent Scotch.

“Here’s to another successful case! Thanks of course to the detective work done by yours truly,” smirked Theon.

“I think Jon’s legal acumen had a _little_ to do with it,” Sansa replied dryly.

Jon grinned at her, tilting his glass towards her in a silent salute before taking another swallow. “I think in this case you had more than a little to do with it, Sansa. Margaery Baratheon only came to me because she was an old friend of yours.”

“To be honest, Jon, I slipped her grandmother your card at the wedding,” Sansa grimaced. “I knew Joffrey even longer than I’ve known Marge; it’s always the wife who is the first suspect, and I’ve thought for years that Joffrey was going to get himself murdered sooner or later.”

“Have to say, from everything we found out about him during the investigation, I’m surprised he lived long enough to marry her in the first place,” Theon shrugged. He threw back the rest of his drink, and placed the empty glass on Jon’s desk. “Well, I’m off. I have a hot date tonight, and I want to catch my latest cheating husband at breakfast tomorrow. See you when the next client in need walks through your door.”

As the banging of the outer door echoed through the office, Sansa quietly took another sip. As they sat in companionable silence, Jon gazed at her, half-lit by streetlights and the occasional neon flicker through the open window.

“You’re staring at me.”

“It’s an occupation I never grow tired of. You can’t see the stars in the sky at night in this city from all the neon, so I gaze at you instead.”

“Why, Jon, that was almost poetic,” Sansa teased.

“Will you come home with me tonight?” Jon asked gently.

Sansa took another sip. “Depends on why you’re asking.”

“Because I want to eat dinner with you, then spend the evening making love to you, and the night sleeping beside you.”

Sansa finished her drink, staring into the empty glass thoughtfully. “Those are good reasons.”

“If it helps, that blouse of yours I promised to have dry-cleaned after I spilled sauce on it last month is still waiting in my closet.”

Sansa smiled, and placed her empty glass next to Theon’s. “All right, Counsellor, you win.” Sliding off the desk, she plucked Jon’s glass from his hand and arranged it with the others, forming a three-petalled flower in crystal glassware. “But you know how watching you win in court gets me in the mood.”

Jon smiled and started undoing his shirt, glad he’d already discarded his suit jacket and tie. “I never have a problem with activities to work up an appetite before dinner. My desk?”

“Just stay in the chair.”

As Jon undid his belt, Sansa’s pale blue twinset was piled onto the desk, her black skirt quickly joining it as Jon sat back down, trousers and briefs around his ankles and shirt wide open to reveal his white undershirt, clinging to his muscled chest and abdomen. 

Sansa giggled, “Theon talks about his manly physique so much – he’d shut up about it for good if he ever got a look at you shirtless.”

Sansa carefully slid one high-heel shod foot into the large gap between Jon’s right thigh and the chair arm. She would give up Scotch before admitting that when she’d redecorated the office she’d chosen the side less chairs specifically for this purpose. Jon put his hands on her hips to steady her as her other foot lifted and slid through the other side. When Sansa settled onto Jon’s lap, straddling him, the hem of her slip rode up her spread thighs, high enough to show where her suspenders held up her stockings.

“Do we need a signal for me to pull out?” Jon asked, running his hand along her thigh, lingering at the line where silk met even silkier skin.

Sansa shook her head. “Remember how I went to the bathroom while you poured the drinks? I put my diaphragm in then.”

“Always so efficient, Miss Stark,” Jon sighed lovingly.

“Of course, Mr Snow, it’s part of my job,” Sansa replied pertly as she raised up slightly, then eased down onto Jon’s erection.

Jon sighed in contentment as he was enveloped in her slick heat. “And you are, as always, exceptional at your job Miss Stark.”

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as her hips rocked back and forth. Their kisses were slow and long as they languidly made love in the dimly-lit office. Their soft moans and sighs did little to drown out the noise of the traffic coming through the open window, even three floors up.

A siren screamed by as their passion grew. Sansa’s pace sped up and Jon’s hold on her tightened, biceps bulging with effort as he helped Sansa lift herself up and down, the tension in their bodies increasing until Sansa clenched around him with a soft cry, and Jon’s control snapped, groaning into her mouth as his release spilled inside her.

In the aftermath, Sansa slumped against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. Eddies of her warm breath danced against the side of his neck.

“Marry me,” Jon murmured.

“Asking me now is dirty pool, Jon,” Sansa muttered.

“I tried playing fair the last three times I asked you. Figured it was time to change tactics.”

Sansa lifted her head and hooked a strand of fallen hair behind her ear. “I told you my reasons before, Jon, and they haven’t changed. I want to share your life, which means sharing your work, not sitting at home waiting for you.”

“Sansa, as your employer I can reasonably assure you that if you choose to marry, I will not expect you to resign. In fact, I would be disappointed if you did.”

“Why do you keep asking me? What’s wrong with what we have?”

“Because what we’re doing tonight? Dinner, lovemaking, sleeping together? I want to do that every night. I want to share your life too, Sansa. Not just in the office but out of it.”

Sansa’s eyes softened, and Jon knew he’d made headway. “I still need some time to consider my opinion. Is that all right?”

“Take all the time you need. I’m available to hear your judgment whenever it’s ready.”

Sansa tipped her head forward to rest her forehead against Jon’s. For several long moments, they breathed together as their bodies cooled.

It was Sansa, as usual, who broke the silence. “Chinatown for dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

If the picset isn't showing below (honestly, I read the FAQ! Why won't the bloody thing work???) you can also find it on tumblr, [here](https://nessataleweaver.tumblr.com/post/622187415483842560/fic-and-picset-waiting-on-appeal)


End file.
